


The Horrible Stench.

by Smuggy



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuggy/pseuds/Smuggy
Summary: A 'typical' man working a usual shift at his local restaurant is suddenly faced with an ancient enemy, one he thought he would be rid of. He risks his entire life, and job, over this one disturbance in his life. The question if he survives is one for the gods to answer.
Kudos: 4





	The Horrible Stench.

Within the confines of a kitchen, a man with bleached skin was dutifully at work preparing for the day. Chopping up vegetables, grinding up meat, and preparing the spices for the day was usually the worse part of the day. However, today was an incredibly special day for the mysterious chef. The restaurant, of which he worked, decided to branch out when it came to options for food. Food involving the man’s most hated herb. Garlic. The smell was absolutely awful and brought a foul expression to the man’s face as it was brought into his workspace by the lowly man who worked the food delivery. Crates upon crates of the disgusting herb sat in the corner of the room, looming over the man like an evil force. Each time the pale-skinned man looked over at the crates, he could have sworn it was staring at him with a sinful smile. 

Alas, the owners weren’t paying him to stare at the crates of garlic, they were paying him to work with it. So, with a begrudging sigh, the man walked over to one of the crates and hoisted it over to the nearest workbench. As he set the wooden box down, the man was hit with the stench of the garlic as if he were just stabbed through the heart with a stake. His knife-like ears wiggled about as he gaged, and retched, trying to hide the sounds by using his hand. 

“These people….I swear, they WANT to kill me.” The man said, dragging a hand through his hair that shined like the abyss. Thankfully, he would not have to work with it unless someone ordered a dish using the herb, that was the man’s saving grace at this point, his only saving grace. He still had to…smell it, ugh! 

As the first bell of the day rang, and the first customers stepped through the door, the man glanced out through his small opening to view the patrons. An old, fat man and…quite young woman that held onto the man’s arm. Odd, but none of the man’s business. What humans did was their business, he was just here to work and get paid. As the two sat down and waited for a waiter, the man had the perfect opportunity to gather some refreshments for himself. He stepped through the kitchen, his work boots tapping against the sticky floor, and reached down towards his bag of things he had left away from prying eyes. He rummaged a bit before pulling out a blood bag filled with a dark red liquid, blood as one would assume. He slipped the tip of the bag into his mouth and began to siiiiiiip until the bag was an empty husk. He gulped the liquid down until nothing was left, and in the end, dropped it back into his bag without a care in the world, before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his teeth of red, especially the very pointy canines that were on the top and bottom of his jaw. 

With his thirst satisfied, and the customer’s order placed, the bell in the window rang, and the first ticket of the day was served. The man, with a tiny frown, walked over to the ticket and picked it up, whereupon seeing its contents, his expression turned foul. 

“Garlic…Lime Salmon…. Two of them, my gods.” The man’s expression, as sour as it was, couldn’t affect his work, however. So, he got to work, despite his painful expectations of how this dish might go. He tightens his apron and walked over to the freezer, where he slipped out two salmon fillets and placed them upon a cutting board. He then proceeded to work around the garlic, grabbing everything he needed to for this dish until he had to grab the herb he so desperately hated. With a tiny groan, he grabbed the clove, one, and instantly gagged at the smell. He pinched his nose and placed it on the cutting board he had the fillets upon, after washing it and beginning to cook the fish. 

He stared down the clove, his expression turning grimmer and grimmer by the second. He had to…mince the garlic, and of course, this place did not have an automatic machine that could do this. The man grimaced and pulled a slim, sharp knife out of the chopping block that he had next to him. One small cut on his finger, and a bit of juice and it was all over for him. He had to be incredibly careful about this to work. His nose wrinkled up a bit as he got a bit closer to the clove, where he then gently set the sharp end of the blade against the herb. First, a single cut down the middle to reveal the individual cloves. With a single slice and incredibly careful hands, the clove was sliced down the middle. The man exhaled a breath of relief, only to lurch backward and hold his face in disgust, the knife he held slicing through his finger. He screamed into this hand, attempting to muffle the sound as to not alert the owners of the establishment. His face scrunched up, as the smell of the garlic attacked his nose, and his finger bled onto the floor. He quickly went away to fix his main problem, the bleeding finger, before working on his secondary problem. 

After a few moments, a loud shout came from the dining area, the old man who had come in was screaming about his food and how his “baby girl” was getting upset. Quickly, the chef busted back into his kitchen, hobbling on one foot as he attempted to wrap the bandage around his finger. This was it, he thought, this herb, this evil being, was the thing that was going to get him fired. He had to work faster, much faster at this point. The fish was close to being cooked, having been flipped, and its skin becoming a nice crispy texture. A cascade of seasoning cloaked the salmons, and all that was missing was the garlic. Swearing under his breath, the man shoved himself over to where he had cut himself, looking down once more at the cloves of garlic. The man quirked an eyebrow at them, he could have sworn they were staring at him with menacing eyes, and…did it just move? No, no it could not have, it was all a trick. The fumes in the air that plagued the man’s nose had started to get to him, making him sick to his stomach. He had to finish quickly. He took a deep breath and ceased all breathing as he began to work. Sweat began to drip down his face, and his gray skin began to show a color of distress as he chopped and sliced the garlic, trying to avoid his finger from touching it at all cost. 

One little thing droplet of minced garlic and it was all over, which would be bad for the man. He could not delay any longer, and after a while, the garlic was minced and thrown into the cast iron skillet that held the fish. The man, being out of breath, hunched over and began to breathe as deeply as he could, the reeking smell of the sinful herb soon disappearing into smoke. He glanced up at the dish and sighed with relief as he soon saw the minced herb become non-existent. The horrible creature was destroyed, and the man was free from its intoxicating influence. The fish was plated and quickly served, the man and woman looking much happier than before. The man, after wiping his face of sweat, and making sure his face was as normal as possible, hobbled over to his bag, and quickly slipped out another bag of blood, of which he drank it immediately. He slipped down onto the floor, peacefully drinking his drink to rid his memory of that awful experience. 

“Oi! Next Order! A plate of garlic bread!” The owner suddenly shouted into the kitchen, which made the man drop his bag and spill his drink all over the floor in disbelief. 

“…I hate garlic.” He stated, stepping up off the ground before getting back to work.


End file.
